Letters to My Future Bride

I was thinking the other night about what I could give you, right here, right now. These written echoes are all I know to give, other than to build myself up in anticipation of your desires. And I realized, if I had a list of “insider tips” about you, insights into your character and even a suggestion for how to respond, it would probably be invaluable.

These are not directives or instructions on catering to my moods, or anything resembling “how you should treat me.” As I’ve said, understanding myself is an ongoing process, and I learn more about me all the time. These are the results of those reflections on myself, and suggestions for how to act or react to my various flaws, quirks and eccentricities.

1. Whatever you do, don’t say anything bad about my mom. Even if I do.

2. Care. Please, oh please care, always and ever. Actively listen and engage me. Draw me out of myself, ask me about my day, or how I feel about something, because that’s so much of what I need and look for and seek after. Men aren’t supposed to spill their guts, nor have the arrogance to presume it’s wanted. But I want someone to care enough to ask and give me permission to spill a little, who won’t take “fine” as an answer. If you want me to, I’ll spill. But only if you want me to. And then, I’ll tidy up, recompose myself, dismiss the darkness, and turn the spotlight back on you.

3. Nudge me if I’m hogging the spotlight. I think we all try to use personal examples to relate to people, but sometimes it blurs the lines between identifying with someone and hijacking the conversation to talk about yourself. I’m fairly conscious of this, but if you ever feel we’ve shifted focus, do say so won’t you?

4. Be gentle and kind. Do you know how rare those traits are becoming? Darling, there will be times, plenty of them, when I’m going to slip and be a totally clueless idiot. I’ll say the wrong things, do the wrong things, make a terrible hash of it and be an insensitive jerk. As much as possible, cut me some slack and point that out gracefully. 90 percent of the time, it’s not on purpose. I’ll feel even worse than if you snap back, but if you are really patient and earn a trust even in the heat of argument, I know I’ll listen better.

5. Help me make decisions. I’m really good at right/wrong decisions, but if it’s not right or wrong, it’s not always easy.

6. Question me. Ask me the questions you’ve always wanted to ask a guy and never felt you could. “What were you like as a child?” “What’s it like to be a man?” “What are your greatest doubts or fears?” I don’t mind explaining, and it makes me feel good that you want to learn about me.

7. Accept that work is part of who I am. Every man derives some of his identity from his work and the ability to provide. I will try to preserve the balance, but please understand that sometimes, if I’m not working, I won’t feel fulfilled or useful, or even know what to do with myself.

8. Study me. Notice the little things. Pay attention to the things I like. There’s few things more gratifying than for someone to give you a gift or mention something in a comment that shows they remember something about you, that they studied, observed and didn’t forget it, and let it come out somewhere else in a compassionate way: “Oh! You were remembered that?” It shows understanding, accommodation, deference.

9. “Would you do that…for me?” A somewhat helpless, imploring appeal, will probably go pretty far and is also known as “not playing fair.”

10. Tell me what you need. I’ll always try to anticipate your needs, to expect them and plan for them, but sometimes I draw a blank and come up short. Sometimes I just need you to tell me what you need from me.

11. Remind me. Remind me to cut people slack. Remind me to be gracious…graciously. I forget that people are only human. Remind me to be encouraging. Remind me to put God and His will first. Remind me to pray for others. We all need those reminders, every day of our lives.

12. Try to understand me. It’s hard to keep the world off my shoulders sometimes, and there are certain darknesses in my soul you’ll just have to accept. Some things bothers me that don’t usually bother others. The fate my people troubles me, the fate of the nation. Please understand, or at least try. If you don’t, ask for clarification. There are times I think being understood is greater than being loved.

13. Be willing to show vulnerability and weakness. If you need me to hold you while you sob, there’s nothing I would rather do.

14. Validate me. A man’s ego is neither as strong nor as fragile as it seems, and we all need to hear we’re appreciated. Recognize, acknowledge and remind me that I’m a “great guy.” I try hard to live up to that, but sometimes I doubt.

15. Give me time. Some people are blessed with the ability to know their reaction to a comment and immediately respond. I am not always one of those people. Sometimes, a comment is made which takes me a while to realize actually upset me greatly.

16. Show me you appreciate and are grateful for my work and sacrifice. Smiling, giving me a peck on the cheek and saying “thank you for waiting” or “I really, really appreciate the work you put into this evening” or “I’m really grateful you chose to spend time with me tonight” would really, really validate those decisions, and keep me looking for the next right thing to do. Men aren’t that complicated, Darling, I’ve told you that. Any good dog will do what you want for praise and reward. Men are the same, trust me. Bestow a warm smile, a gracious hug or a heart-warming compliment to us and just watch us dance. Make a man feel like the greatest guy in the world, and it will inspire him to become even better.

17. Sometimes I have short temper bursts, usually at inanimate objects that drop or won’t close or won’t open or that hurt me. It’s petty, I know. I’m pretty sure words don’t fix those situations. Just a little sympathy is all. I’m good at putting big-boy pants on.

18. Celebrate me. I’ve got a birthday in a couple of weeks and I want it to be more than just the simple quiet family affair I’ve had for the last quarter-century. I would do this for people more often if I knew them well enough, or if enough people existed who would come to a surprise party. I helped put one together for two younger siblings a couple of years ago. And this past summer, I put a lot of effort into making one birthday special. It’s nice to have someone make a big deal for me, every once in a while. I have in mind to pick certain days at random in our family just to celebrate each member.

19. Inspire me. Give me the impossible advice of righteousness…the kind that will make me protest that only a perfect person could live up to it. The kind where I’m frustrated or angry and want to indulge my sinful nature and you say “why don’t you love them instead” or “why don’t you forgive them.” Of course it’s the right thing to do, and darn it if it’s the last thing I want to hear. But what are spouses for if not to spur each other on to impossibly higher heights of character?

20. Cook for me. Yes, there are plenty of male chefs, and no, a woman’s place is not in the kitchen. But like it or not, cooking is still kind of a woman’s thing. No diner ever made a killing by invoking memories of Dad’s cooking, and the prepackaged food in the stores doesn’t try to sell you on Grandpa’s apple turnovers. Now, I’m no a rube in the kitchen; I grill meats and scramble eggs. I fry fish, slice vegetables and peel fruit. I don’t order pizzas, or eat out except to join friends. If I want to get creative with the cutlery, I can. I just don’t have a palate that demands an hour of food prep, nor do I consider myself worth that much effort. But if you take it on as your job to keep your man fed, you get mad respect for that one. Part of the reason people get married is to look after each other, and part of the reason people date is to see if they want to get married. So if you’re dating me, note that I’ll be modeling the behavior I plan to show all throughout marriage, and that includes my desire to care for you in every aspect. In return, I’m looking for the same.

21. Cheer me. Sometimes a man needs his bride to be a coach. Sometimes, a team manager. Sometimes, a team player. And sometimes, he just needs someone cheering him on, being his biggest fan and his loudest champion.

I’ll be adding to this list as time goes by, so don’t forget to check back from time to time. And if you haven’t made one of these, I think it would be a loving and sensitive thing to do. We all need as much help as we can get.

No matter how wonderful our life will be together, no matter how much we love each other or our children, there comes a time when everyone needs some time away. Life will stack up in all the wrong ways, and you’ll need a break before you break.

I can’t promise I’ll always see those times coming. I can’t promise I won’t have my own frustrations and struggles that blind me to yours. But I can promise that when I do, I’ll intervene on your behalf. I’ll take that screaming baby out of your hands and tell you to go outside and take a break. I’ll see the frantic glaze over your eyes if the house is messy and the kids are arguing and you’re working over a hot stove with hair stringing in your eyes. Though you’ll feel like it’s your fault and your responsibility, I’ll order you to stop and go breathe somewhere. Just breathe. I got this. You’ll come back and (I hope!) the kids will be calmed,the pasta is served and maybe even the dishes washed, depending on how much time you took to breathe. I hope you’ll feel better, and grateful, and I dearly hope I can earn your admiration by having restored order and given you a moment’s peace.

There’ll be days even I’ll get on your nerves. Maybe I’ll be home too much. Maybe I’ll be gone too much. Maybe my political work will get the better of me and I’ll suddenly realize I’ve neglected you for a few days. I’ll call a time-out on work and spend a day with you. We can just have an all-day date together, sleeping in, going to the zoo, going sledding, going to a movie, going to dinner. We can cook together in the kitchen, or grab a picnic basket and head for the hills. We can light some candles, and turn off the lights. We can turn some music, and each other, on as we dance in candlelight.

There’ll be days where life just stacks up for both of us. We both approach the breaking point, and need a retreat. That’s when I’ll suggest we take a weekend trip, or even just an overnight. I’ll find tickets to a show a few hours’ drive away, or a concert. Or we can just throw a tent and some sleeping bags in the truck and rough it. (And when I say rough it…) Maybe we can just overnight to New York City. Or some night when you’re thinking about dinner, I’ll say “you know what I’d like? Dinner at Delmonico’s.” And you’ll laugh and say “yeah, right.” And I’ll say “I’m serious.” “But that’s in New York City!” And I’ll shrug and say so? We’ll go check airline prices, and you’ll laugh incredulously as I tell you go to pack a bag, we’re spending the night in New York. I can be spontaneous that way, and I’m working towards earning enough that it won’t be a wasteful or frivolous use of our resources.

I’m trying to be aware. I’m trying to anticipate, because the experts all say wonderful things, even marriage, can eventually wind up taken for granted. I love you and miss you so much right now it hurts, and it’s hard to imagine that. But I’m trying to think with my head, not my heart. I’m trying to understand that you and I won’t always be on cloud nine of perfection, that sometimes love has to be intentional.

I’m trying to be aware that occasionally, time away from me is one of the best ways to show you I love you. And if in the end I’m big and dumb and clueless, just wave the flag (or smack it across my face) and tell me you need a time out.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul!What rich desire unlocks its door;What sweet seduction lies before us!When will the blood begin to race The sleeping bud burst into bloom When will the flames at last consume us?”

-Andrew Lloyd Webber

Dear Darling,

What comes to your mind when you think about your honeymoon? Where do you want to go, what images fill your head?

I had a friend tell me once, don’t go anywhere exciting and fun! You might wind up not even leaving the hotel room.

Tell me…are you the sort of woman that yearns for the day of consummation, when you will take your husband into your arms and make him your own? Are you desperately aching to retire the shackles of restraint and self-discipline and begin soaring? Do you ever have times when you cannot wait to make love, early, often and with great vigor?

My fiery darling, if that describes you, then…I’m your man.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as aware of sexuality as I am now. Of how it pervades society…of how it motivates and drives people. Of how it drives me. It’s the engine that keeps on revving in the motor car that must stay parked. It’s that sacred fire, sequestered deep inside, radiating endless heat to every pore of my body. It’s the unbidden urges, the ravenous craving for a warm body to embrace. It’s a beast, a raging, voraciously hungry animal. I have to crack a whip to bring it into line. That’s good for you, if making love early and often is something you relish. But it’s not good for me. Not now. I love that beast. It’s part of me. It IS me. But it can’t make the rules. I must be the master, force him back into the cage, because he doesn’t belong outside of it until the due time.

To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to remember that due time will ever come. It’s hard to have faith that one day I’ll go running down to that cage, smash the lock and fling open the door. He’ll be set free at last. I’ll be free. We’ll be free. And then everything forbidden and taboo will become not just permissible but mandatory! We’ll be free, free to burn in the white-hot inferno of love, to dance in the blaze of our primal, pure pent-up passion for each other. I’m zealous that we should share this only with each other; you know this. I desperately hope you will be speechlessly proud of me for saying no when my body demanded otherwise, and make me speechlessly proud of you for waiting. And yet, I hope that you will expect no lesser standard.

And what will that look like, Darling? Can you imagine? Can either of us even begin to envision the strain and cravings building up to the days before our wedding? (By the way, should we have a long engagement or a short one?) Two weeks to go? One week? What about that last night, each of us going to bed alone, sending some last goodnight texts and thinking “last night alone, forever”? I don’t know if I’ll even sleep. Not one wink. But that’s okay…because I doubt either of us will the night which follows.

When morning arrives, I have a hunch I’ll absolutely fly out of bed. I might flit around the room before hovering downstairs for breakfast. Maybe you’ll have beat me to awakening and will have sent me a good-morning text. (But no, the old tradition is not to see the bride before the wedding. I think we must agree not even to communicate!)

Imagine it: thoughts and butterflies and nerves all whirling and flashing about in dizzying haste, life slowing down and speeding up at the same time, heart racing as the ceremony commences. As you walk down the aisle all in white. Faces will be looking, music will be playing. I’m sure somewhere in the back of my mind, angels will be singing. We’ll say our I-do’s. There’ll be a kiss. We’ll greet the guests, eat the food, dance the dances. The sun will set. The hour to depart will draw nigh. We’ll hop into our JUST MARRIED car and take off.

But where?

Well Darling, of course you’ll have a say in that. But I’ve got Plans. Ohhhh yes, do I have plans!

I don’t think either of us will want to travel a great distance that night. As much as I’d love to take you through an airport security checkpoint with your gown on, show you off, let the entire airplane applaud us, I don’t think either of us will have that energy. So let’s stop at a hotel for the night and save the travel for the next day.

Can you imagine checking in at the front desk, the clerk giving us a wry smile with our room keys, and we two trying to keep poker faces as we head up in the elevator, stealing kisses the whole way? Hmm. I think I just decided we should get a private lodge or house somewhere rather than a hotel room. Yep. Definitely. One of those chalets in Gatlinburg, I should think. First thing inside the door, I’d say it would be time for some record-breaking kisses.

Will we want food? I think my stomach will just grin, give me the thumbs-up and say “to heck with dinner.”

Knowing me, I think I’ll be terrified it’s a dream and I might wake up. I might need pinching. (Maybe you’ll oblige me.) I think I’ll have that feeling of my gut dropping out, the gasping, gaping “this is finally for real.”

I suppose we’ll both need to shower?

We’ll both be nervous as anything. But I want you to know something right now. I may be a virgin’s virgin, but I’m not uninformed. I’ve done a little homework. I know the first time is often painful for women, and that men have a reputation for giving reign to instinct, turning into hormone-fused time-bombs that ignite too early and leave their partner disappointed. I want to be among the first men who prioritized their wives before themselves…one of the few guys who anticipated the problem and averted it. I want to go slow and let us both savor the moment.

“At the door of every bridal bedchamber, an angel stands, smiling, with a finger to his lips.”

Ah, and the morning after! If we even sleep at all, to wake up in each other’s arms, as the sun spills on the sheets and the birds sing, and we both arise, forever changed.

But what about that travel I mentioned? Darling, how does a private island sound?

How about an abandoned beach house, miles of uninhabited beachline and open ocean sound? We can dance like no one is looking, explore our temporary tropical paradise (and each other) together, and make love on the beach as the sun sets. We can go swimming in the ocean as the moonlight dances off the water, build fires on the beach, kiss each other madly as the tropic rains thunder down, watch the sun rise, go boating in the open ocean.

We will give each other wholly and completely to ourselves. We can share our secrets far from civilization where no one can hear. We’ll share our innermost thoughts. I’ll haul out the chest of letters that I’ve been saving for you, years of them, for us to go through.

It will be a honeymoon of great renown. We’ll remember it for years. You’ll be breathless to tell about it, your friends will be amazed.

I hope this indicates the kind of life I hope to build with you. I hope we’ll have the best relationship we can’t ever talk about. I hope you’re as hungry and eager as I am. I hope we’ll turn each other on effortlessly…that you’ll read the smolder in my eyes, and dare me with come-hither looks, even years later.

Let’s never allow the spark to die.

Now of course, all these plans may unravel. They say never to expect the perfect wedding day because nothing is ever perfect. The cake could be ruined, it might rain, the candles might set the drapes on fire, the dog could wet on your dress. The world could be tumultuous, the flight may be delayed, there might be war. One of us could be sick, or we could both wind up a little awkward, annoyed and unfulfilled on our wedding night. We won’t let the possibility of failure prevent us from striving for success.

And to think! These red-lettered days may only lie nestled among the next year or two of our lives!

I could go further. I think my meager gift of words might just be enough to arouse your desire and your passion for your husband like never before. But a knight and gentleman would not broadcast such things publicly. To do so would be unwise, imprudent and unkind. Discretion bids us close the lid on this box of wonders and speak no more of it until the due time. Love must not be awakened prematurely.

“The moment I first truly loved my wife is when she asked me to do something I didn’t want to do, and I did it anyway.”

I attend a weekly men’s Bible study. I’m pretty sure I’m the youngest guy there which is fine; I’m used to sticking out in a crowd. But it’s become apparent I’m in another minority — bachelorhood. One fellow has only slightly jokingly offered to set me up with some people he knows, but he’s never followed through on it.

At a recent study, another fellow “encouraged” me by telling me marriage and love were wonder feelings I could well look forward to.

Ya think?

I’m not prone to giving in to my feelings. I believe I’ve written to you before about this, my proclivity to keep them on a tight rein. Passion is a fickle governess, and she has led far, far too many of my brothers and sisters away to treachery. (God forgive me that I feel some grim satisfaction that they must bear the consequences of their actions. Yet if a man as hungry as me can stay true to my future spouse, no one else has much of an excuse.)

Far too many marriages are based on nothing but feelings. I recall catching a televised wedding ceremony a few years ago, and instead of “so long as you both shall live” they vowed “so long as ye both shall love.”

Love has to be more than that.

Love is a verb. Love requires will. And toil. And effort.

I won’t always feel like loving you, nor you me. Although I think you will always be precious and wonderful to me, there will be days where you won’t like me and I won’t like you. There will be days you may be less attractive when you roll out of bed in the morning, with your hair everywhere, scratching and blinking and yawning. (I’d pay any price just to see you now, even in that state.) There will be days I’ll be sweaty and grimy and hot, smelly and gross and you won’t want to come near me. There will be the times we argue and fight and hurt each other. There will be days when I’m tired and cranky and stubborn, and the golden has tarnished all off of my Golden Rule.

There will be times I won’t feel like loving you.

That’s why it has to be more than a feeling. Feelings come and go, but mostly they go. Love can’t depend on that, marriage can’t depend on that. I don’t know how well that’s going to work in the end, because I haven’t been there. A man never knows until he’s been tested. But forewarned is forearmed — I do see those days coming, and I’m doing what I can to prepare for them. (And I darn sure don’t ever see divorce as an option.)

When necessary, I’m going to try to love you in spite of feelings, not just because of them.

And yet…oh, and yet! For a man who restrains his feelings and keeps this heart of stone under lock and key, the promise of those feelings holds untold wonder. There is an anticipation and knowledge that the promises and pleasures of the future are so great that the anticipation is nearly unbearable, and to dwell on them is to torture one’s self.

As I was riding the bus to work the other day, someone sat down next to me. (Funny how each double row will fill to just one occupant before we’ll succumb to sitting side-by-side.) She was totally unaware that her sleeve was rubbing my arm, and although I did not even draw close to sinning, it simply put me in mind of you, and what it will be like just to sit on the couch together and watch a movie, with you cuddled up next to me, nestled in my arms.

I’m not the most organized person in the world. I may be a little messy and disorganized. I may even have misplaced my share of important paperwork in my time and had to pay minor late fees on taxes or movie rentals.

But there’s a method to the madness. The truth is, I hate disorder…I’m just usually doing something that is more important (to me) to stop and clean.

I actually like cleaning. It’s a refreshing break from mental labors, and a great way to unwind while restoring order to the world I live in. Some days, there’s nothing better than clearing one’s mind of its obligations and stresses, throwing open the windows to let a breeze in and just cleaning; sweeping up floors, wiping off counters, folding that clean laundry from the hamper you’ve been living out of for a week. It’s cathartic.

So Darling, it’s no exaggeration when I say that while other guys figure it’s the wife’s job, I plan on helping you keep a clean house.

I’m always amused when I hear stories or see it in movies (you know how one forms these opinions of societal trends without quite remembering how or where?) about a man who takes out the trash without being asked or does the dishes because he’s in trouble or trying to curry favor.

Sheesh.

We’re on the same team. And while I do hope that at one point you are equal to the task of raising and educating our children and tending the house, I view marriage as a 100%/100% team sport…each of us giving 100%. I don’t believe in the philosophy of “that’s not my job.”

And while I have my share of handyman skills, I’m not just talking about “man tasks” either. I mean vacuuming, dusting, washing laundry or doing dishes. They aren’t my favorite things in the world to do, but what I mean is I don’t mind doing them. I believe that true goodness is humble; that to be great you have to be a servant.

So while I’m not setting my sights on doing this every day, or being a good little housewife for you, I do plan on doing my share (or more) to help you…and at times, to surprise you by doing it all. And I don’t just mean during the mythical “honeymoon period” either.

I think a nice, contented sigh and a “you’re wonderful” might be payment enough…although throwing your arms around my neck and giving me a kiss might not be unappreciated either.

It’s not that I’m bad with money, although when I first felt that freedom given by a paycheck, I did let a lot of it slip through my fingers.

Now of course, it wasn’t all for me…sometimes I’d buy something for my family, or lunch for somebody. (Last year I spent a couple hundred dollars on a Wounded Warriors family.) I still don’t regret most of the ways I spent it, but it was sobering to look back over my earnings for a year, and how much of it was left — and how much wasn’t.

If you won’t tell anyone else, I even kind of like shopping.

Frankly, I’m good at it.

I’m capable of knowing what I have at home and what I need to buy. It’s not exactly the “thrill of the hunt” I enjoy, but as I pack a shopping cart full of food, it’s a great reminder of the ability to provide, and the privilege of being able to take care of one’s needs comfortably.

Now I don’t want you to think either that I’m irresponsible with money or that there’s nothing I like better than a jaunt in the mall. It’s just that money itself isn’t as important to me as the ways in which it can be used, and I like using it to make other people happy. (Within reason.)

And we’re not just talking a quick run by the store on the way home from work. I’m talking you hand me a full grocery list of everything you need to cook for the next week or two and I’ll head out. Personally, I think it would be more fun if we both went shopping…I think even the little things like a grocery trip can be romantic together.

Of course, while the mall isn’t my favorite place, I have a hunch you’ll still want to go there every now and again and buy clothes. Ya’know, I’ll probably not even mind going with you there. I think it’d be fun to see you try on dresses, blouses and skirts, and have you ask my opinion.

I’ll be flattered you care what I think, you gorgeous thing you.

Mind you, if you ask me whether or not a certain outfit flatters you, I’ll not shy away from tactfully suggesting you find an alternate. (We can have a deal that if you never say that classic line “Does this make my behind look too big?” then I will never respond to it.)

I might even hold your purse while you duck into the ladies’ room…mostly because I’m amused by the classic Dude Paradox this presents.

I hear “guy talk” about this sort of thing all the time. They grumble about their wives spending too much money, and dragging them all over the store, and whatnot. Really? First of all, if you’re the kind of girl I think you are, you’ll already be frugal and prudent with the resources God gives us. Second, why don’t they give a little more joyfully? I’m sure these are just the questions of a man who’s never been there before, but I find myself very annoyed with today’s modern husband, and how lightly he criticizes the bride he promised to love, honor and cherish.

And even if I didn’t mind, or on the days when I do mind, I’ll still try to chip in and help you out.

It’s just one of the many ways I want to reward you for being there with me.

They say the wedding is for the bride, the honeymoon is for the groom.

Bosh.

I’m a sucker for wedding traditions, and I kinda hope that’s something you’re down for. The tossing of the bouquet, the bridal march, the rice, the flower petals and bridesmaids, the rings and vows, everything.

Except one.

I never liked that whole garter thing. To me, it’s suggestive, disrespectful and kind of lewd.

But there’s a lesser-known tradition in weddings which would still put you in a chair with me kneeling in front of you.

In tribute to the Savior, and in token of a married life striving for a servant’s heart, I want to wash your feet.

What better note to start out on as man and wife than by a reminder that life is richest when characterized by putting others first?

About

Welcome. You’ve stumbled upon the secretest of treasure troves; love letters to a woman I’ve never met. Luthien, the love of my life, my future bride. Until time and time’s Author release her to me, I am hiding the poems, laments and love-sick lullabies tucked away here, in a quiet corner until we meet; private words spoken publicly. You are invited to tread among these sacred thoughts, and may by some grace be encouraged in your wait, and to remember your own love, your own value and the precious rewards of waiting.

Your comments, likes and shares are welcome. If you have questions, a letter may find its way to my door if addressed to LetterstoLuthien, by way of the courier known as Yahoo.